


God just make me whole

by kydkry



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, So much angst, Starvation, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vomiting, graphic desciptions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kydkry/pseuds/kydkry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" And so here he was, leaning against the toilet bowl, his knees limp yet heavy on either side of his waist, pulling him down to the cold tile floor." </p><p>Or: Kageyama has an eating disorder and the last person he expects to help is Tsukishima Kei</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. can't help myself

**Author's Note:**

> please please please read the tags!!! TW for very graphic descriptions of eating disorders, bad mental health and vomiting. Don't read if you're sensitive towards any of those things. 
> 
> This fic hasn't been beta'd so tell me if there are any major mistakes! I plan to update about every week!!!

      He didn’t think it was really that much of a big deal. That is, the big deal that everyone made it out to be, at least. Hating yourself. Hating your body. Hating every inch of skin wrapped around thick bones that even after so much weight loss, still kept him looking very much the same. Heavy. Disgustingly broad. Unattractive.

    And he really did hate it, but it was a mellow hate. A hate he kept inside himself that quietly simmered during the day but boiled at night. Leaving the setter hunched over the toilet bowl, hugging it with weak arms, his face resting on the seat. He wished he was a puker. If he was a puker at least he’d be able to enjoy food. Sweets wouldn’t make him cringe (just the thought of having sugar in his body made his stomach queezy) and greasy snacks wouldn’t leave him feeling nauseous. But perhaps best of all, if he was a puker it’d be easier to hide what he was doing to himself.

      Every time he was out with Hinata he had to make things seem normal, had to shove rice balls and juice and chicken nuggets down his throat even though it felt like his body was rejecting the nutrients and he had to fight back the impending vomit-fountain from spewing out of him.

     He hoped that Hinata wouldn’t notice the small bites he took, the way he spit out his food into the napkin whenever the decoy wasn’t looking, the way his eyes watered whenever he knew he had to take a bite. But of course, Hinata wasn’t stupid (despite what everyone else seemed to think). In fact, he was rather perceptive and Kageyama knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. If he didn’t want Hinata to find out he’d have to eat, or at least get better at pretending to. It was becoming suspicious and he knew that the shorter male was onto him because he rarely took his eyes off him when they ate together anymore. Which meant Kageyama had to clean his plate. Which meant he had to chew everything he’d bought into disgusting mush and push that lump of cold food into his esophagus and digest it without looking on the verge of a panic attack and really, that was the hardest part.

      Because Kageyama couldn’t help but panic.

     He was ruining his figure. The figure he’d worked so hard for. He was going to gain it all back. He was going to go back to being fat and feeling heavy instead of the glorious feeling of utter weightlessness he experienced after an entire day clean of food.

     It would be so much better if he could just learn to puke it out. And so here he was, leaning against the toilet bowl, his knees limp yet heavy on either side of his waist, pulling him down to the cold tile floor. He vaguely wondered how he’d gotten this weak but the answer came easily. Of course, he knew he’d lose muscle in starving himself. He’d been ready for that from the beginning. He was prepared. He was prepared to lose everything. Everything it took to be skinny. To be weightless. To be perfect. And he almost was. He was almost there. He was so close he could almost taste it.

     8 pounds from perfection. He could get there in a few days if he really tried. If he went with nothing but water and celery. Maybe not even that. He prayed for the holidays to come so that he wouldn’t have to pretend to eat anymore and could just wait as the hours ticked by and another foodless day passed. That’s what he’d done during winter break, anyway and it’d worked well. He’d lost 15 pounds and was on his was to another 5.

     He was so close.

     Kageyama’s eyes brimmed with tears as he tried for the third time that night to jam his finger far enough down his throat to force everything out but for some reason he just couldn’t get the hang of it. He’d always gag but would never release. The frustration was overwhelming and he was snarling with it, angry tears sliding down his cheeks as he held his jaw in one forceful hand, craming his fingers into the opening with the other and biting down upon impulse. He practically howled, pulling his wounded hand away as his head slumped against the side of the toilet, sweat gliding down the slope of his nose from the roots of his hair.

      He couldn’t even tell how much time had passed. Had he been here for hours or just mere minutes? And what time of day was it while he was on the subject. Wasn’t it night time? That was why no one seemed to even notice his muffled whines or why he had heard no feet mapping their way to the bathroom to relieve themselves. He’d heard nothing. Everything was quiet except for the soft humming of running water from the pipes behind the sink and his own pathetic sobbing.

     And that’s what it was now. Sobbing. His sad little lonely tears had morphed into a full-on assault of emotion, wiping his face off on the arm whose sleeve wasn’t huddled up around his elbow. He was a mess. Truly how had it gotten this way? How had it gotten so bad? He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t hated his body. When he hadn’t hated himself even just a little. It must have been middle school. His first year there before things began spiraling. When he only cared about volleyball.

     Truthfully, volleyball was the only thing that kept him feeling even the slightest bit sane. Kept him in check. He knew in order to play volleyball he had to have at least something in his system. A banana maybe. It wasn’t more than 150 calories and he’d burn that off anyway with all the running and jumping around. Lately though, he hadn’t been feeling so up to it. He just didn’t have the energy. He didn’t have the energy to race Hinata to the gym and to class. He didn’t have the energy to perform their freak quick. He could barely even stay standing throughout all of practice.

      Someone had to know something was up.

      Something had to be up.

      Kageyama Tobio loved volleyball. He loved it to death. He would probably be the first man alive to marry a sport and yet he just wasn’t trying anymore. Hinata, of course, had yelled at him for it.

     “Gah! Bakageyama I could’ve hit that one what’s your problem?! Are you trying to make us lose?!”

      The words rang hollow to him and the setter had given a half-hearted shrug and tossed the ball over to Suga who looked almost sick with concern, squeezing the ball tightly in his hands, his mouth open, no doubt ready to spew some of his famous motherly-bullshit at the other boy. Kageyama cut him off before he could try it 

     “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m just gonna go home.”

     The gym was quiet. Kageyama could hear his sneakers scuffing up the floor as he dragged himself away, making an effort not to slam the door behind him and taking in a lung-full of fresh air. It didn’t make him feel any better. He still felt annoyingly dizzy and even though he hadn’t eaten anything aside from half of a pear for the entire day he still felt heavy. Or maybe just weak. That was probably it. Maybe he could play it off as the flu. Say that he felt too sick to go to school and stay home where he could practice vomiting up his meals. For some reason just the thought of that made him feel better. He now had something to look forward to.

     When he had imagined the scenario he’d left out a few things.

     The first of which was how disappointed he would feel every time he failed to complete the task of puking. The second was that eventually, he would pass out from malnutrition, dried drool connecting him to the toilet seat as his shoulders slumped forward, his knees bruised from leaning on them for so long. That was how Hinata had found him that morning after practically bursting open the bathroom door when he found himself locked out with no sight of his increasingly allusive friend. Poor Kageyama. He didn’t even get to realize who it was shaking him awake. His mother maybe? Wouldn’t she be at work? Tobio’s unfocussed eyes blinked once or twice before he was out again.

     He heard crying in his dream, but he couldn't tell if it was coming from him or someone else. He figured each option was equally plausible. He had been crying the night before. Or maybe it was still night time? The days started to blur together into one massive clump of time that seemed to be going in an eternal loop rather than stretching on infinitely in one direction. Hinata was nestled against his chest, crying like a wounded bird. He must have dragged him into his bedroom. Had he fallen asleep in the bathroom? What time was it? Was it even worth checking? Was any of this even real or was it just another dream? The setter opened his eyes, which for some reason seemed to take as much strength as it would 10 push ups, and sure enough he was greeted with a sad mop of curly red hair. Hinata's hands were fisted in his shirt and his nose was running down his face. He looked disgusting, Kageyama couldn't help but think. Disgusting and pathetic. Why was he even here?

     "Oi, Hinata," Kageyama muttered, nudging him softly. The other boy let out a squeak of surprise before tightening his grip on Kageyama's shirt and sobbing harder, his shoulders shaking. "Hey, cut it out." _You're gonna make me cry if you do that. Stupid Hinata_ he thought, lightly shaking the spiker's shoulder but Hinata just wasn't having it. He pulled Kageyama into him with a vice grip around his neck, crying directly into the side of his face, snot and tears warming up his cheek. _Gross._

"K-Kageyama why didn't you tell me you were sick?" came a weak miserable response. Hinata wiped his nose on his neck and Kageyama grimaced, pulling the boy away by his wrist to look at him.

     "What the hell are you talking about?" he growled. He hated being talked to when he'd just woken up, especially when the conversation was more or less just a display of the redhead's inability to shut up. He was still crying. Kageyama felt like he'd been listening to him cry for days.

     "Aren't you sick? Kageyama I know your sick.. stupid! You look so bad! You look like you're dying!" Hinata words dissipated into an uncomfortable silence as he sniffled, his breath hitching occasionally as he tried to calm himself down, wiping his eyes. Kageyama furrowed his brow. He didn't understand. Why would he be dying? What the hell had happened since he'd fallen asleep?

     "I'm not dying idiot. I'm fine. I just... have a cold or something. You should probably go away it might be contagious." He mustered up a tiny fake cough but the decoy did not seem amused, instead going almost livid, pushing Kageyama by his aching shoulders back against the edge of his bed where his weak body threatened to abandon the situation completely by sinking to the floor.

     "You idiot! Stop lying to me I saw you! I saw you passed out on the floor what were you doing in there you idiot?! I thought you were gonna die! I got so scared!" Hinata was trembling now, his hands shaking as they held Kageyama by the tear dampened shirt he'd been wearing for almost two days straight. Had it really been two days? "You're so.. skinny. And pale. I don't know what's wrong with you. How can I help if I don't know what's wrong?" the boy continued. Kageyama's chest began to ache as he heard those words. _You're so skinny._ An overwhelming sense of pride bloomed inside of him and he struggled to keep from smiling. Hinata would definitely know something was wrong then. But didn't he already? Wasn't he already onto him? Wasn't he the one who'd stopped by Kageyama's house on the way to school expecting to find his friend and instead finding this disgraceful husk of a boy who dared call himself Tobio?

     "I was so scared," Hinata whispered again, a certain fierceness in his voice like he would rip apart anything that tried to interfere with what he was trying to say. "What've you been doing to yourself? It's not okay Kageyama. You're not fine. You're dying."

     The raven haired boy let Hinata's words hit him, rolling over onto his back as he eyes wondered over the ceiling panels. His hands idly found their way under his shirt and he made sure that he could feel every rib, every dip of his weight or therefor lack-of. He felt thin. He was on track. A small smirk ghosted over his lips. Hinata turned to face him, worrying his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes red and puffy.

     "Don't you care at all? Kageyama? Kageyama. Kageyama." There was no response. Hinata turned onto his side, curled up and facing away from the other body as he grabbed his phone from the floor, hands still trembling like the most fearsome of earthquakes as he whimpered back tears. He didn't think he could cry even if he wanted to at this point. "I'm calling my mom," he muttered to the other, sitting up to pull his red sweatshirt over his head, stretching as he hopped out of bed. His back ached from the cramped position they were in before. "She's gonna come and take me home. It's 4 in the afternoon Kageyama you haven't even moved all day! You've been asleep for at least 15 hours!" The panic was rising in his voice again but Kageyama couldn't see his face. He could only see the cracks on the ceiling. He'd never noticed them before. Maybe he would count them. Just to keep himself busy. To keep his mind off of food and how hungry he was. He was starving. Starving to the point where everything looked delicious and edible. He was tempted to gnaw at his own fingers, chewing up the dead skin and turning it into energy which it seemed he'd ran all out of.

     By the time he had turned his head back around, ready to reply to Hinata the boy was gone. Kageyama didn't even hear him leave. Maybe he was going deaf too. He rolled back onto his side, closing his eyes. If he could just sleep through one more day he'd be perfect.


	2. binging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama loses control but has never felt better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow im so sorry all i do is create pain and suffering

     Kageyama was awoken, not by tears this time, but by a soft touch to his forehead. His heavy eyelids drew upwards to observe the figure looming above him. The room was pitch black aside from the tiny sliver of moonlight easing through the blinds of his window. His mother was sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling up his forehead with tender touches that felt more like the breeze than human skin.

     “Are you not feeling too well Tobio?” she asked with concern upon realizing her son was awake. Tobio stretched out like a cat, his forehead nudging her palm as she pulled it away.

     “Actually, I think I caught a stomach bug or something,” Kageyama replied, clutching around at his abdomen to play up the part. His mother’s brow furrowed and she swept her hand over his head again.

     “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever. Were you too sick to go to school this morning? I got a call saying you didn’t show up for attendance.” Her voice was calmer than Hinata’s had been. Soothing. It almost made him feel bad for lying to her. He liked his mom, he really did. She was nice and loving and good at showing her emotions, all the things that Tobio himself wasn’t. But he could blame that on his father. He grimaced just at the thought of him.

     “Yeah. I threw up last night. I feel awful.” He always found that it was best to surround a lie with partial truth because honestly Kageyama wasn’t the best liar and he’d probably forget whatever story he’d made up if it was too complicated. His mother’s hand gently massaged his scalp, an empathetic frown pulling down her lips.

     “I’ll call the school and tell them you’re sick. Are you going to stay home tomorrow too?”

     The setter nodded his head, reaching around for his phone. How long had he been asleep? How many hours? How many days? As his mother left his bedside she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead which only served the make Tobio feel guilty. He could offer her nothing in return. In fact he was wrecking himself. She’d be devastated if she knew. Maybe she would cry and yell at him and shake him like Hinata had. Or maybe she would make him eat. Make him gain all that disgusting weight back.

     He wanted to puke just thinking about it. When he unlocked his phone (which had been wedged underneath his pillow) the luminescent screen nearly blinded him, eyes squinting and brow lowering upon impulse as he adjusted the brightness. There were seven missed calls. Five from Hinata and two from his mother. Hinata had left him a voicemail but he didn’t feel like listening to it. It was probably just more sobbing anyway. Hinata really was just a child, worrying over everything, always assuming the worst. He probably thought that Kageyama would have turned into a skeleton by now. Or maybe he’d become a pile of dust, decorating his sheets, nothing but sand. Kageyama had to admit the idea was kind of appealing.

     It was midnight again. His mother had probably just gotten off work an hour ago. Hinata had found him half in the toilet just this morning but it felt like weeks had passed since then. It was easy to lose track of time when he’d been doing nothing for so long. He was sick of sleeping, but when he wasn’t sleeping he was hungry and being hungry was an overpowering feeling lately. His whole body ached for something. Anything. He’d eat a fly right now if he could.

     Instead, he went through his messages.

**From: Hinata**  
**5:36pm**

     im still mad at you

**From: Hinata**  
**5:38pm**

     do you hate me now??? why are you ignoring me???

**From: Hinata**  
**9:00pm**

     I skipped school to look after you u know you should b grateful!!! AND I didn’t tell anyone about how bad you are. So stop being mad at me!

     Kageyama wished Hinata could see him rolling his eyes. It wasn’t as satisfying knowing he couldn’t. It wasn’t like he hated him. He could never truly hate Hinata even if he was annoying and pestered him. Even if he drove him crazy. He was his friend. Maybe his only one. Not that Kageyama thought he needed friends. Honestly what good were they? They held him back. They suffocated him. It was like accumulating more parental guardians. Why would anyone want that?

     He preferred the relationship of teammates. Everyone was on equal ground. There was no room for personal problems on a team. Only for improvement. There was no room for people to worry about you. There were no broken hearts. There were no betrayals. It wasn’t perfect but it was functional. It was all he needed.

     Hinata would never understand that. He was smothering him.

     His arms ached as he heaved himself up into a sitting position. He wanted to move around but his body was so sluggish. Persistent. It was telling him to stay in bed where he belonged. Really, it was the smart thing to do. His mother would see right through his sick act if she saw him moving about the house. And then he would be forced to go to school. And to see Hinata.

    His heart sank in his chest. Hinata. He could still feel the ghost of his embrace, the muffled and distant sound of his sniffling. He’d really hurt him, hadn’t he? Shit. There was no way he could go to school tomorrow. What would happen between them if he did? Was it worse than what would happen to them if he kept ignoring him like this? Earlier Hinata had been a tornado of emotion. Sad to angry in just a slit second. He was angry at Kageyama for selfishly ruining himself but that was stupid. He was so much better this way. If only he could make Hinata realize that. 

     His stomach growled angrily, almost hopelessly at him and Kageyama slapped his hand down over the offending noise. His guts hurt. They really hurt. He was tense all over. When had he last eaten? How many calories was it? When had he last drunk anything? It had to be at least a day ago. If not longer. His head bounced back against the pillow. He didn’t want to sleep anymore but he had to. If he kept himself hungry all night he would reward himself by eating breakfast in the morning. He was already thinking about it. He’d have a piece of toast, maybe. Maybe he would make himself a salad. Or he could get his mom to order out somewhere, but he’d have to wait around until dinner time for that to happen. And that was too long. He was already almost in tears from the pulses of tension in his abdomen, curling his legs up against his chest as he cried quietly. He hated crying. It made him hungry.

     He couldn’t do this. The pain. The nausea. He had to eat something. Anything. Even if it was only a few crackers. He was positive that one of his internal organs had to be viciously eating the other, at least that was the way he felt. Maybe this was how women felt on their periods. It was truly hell on earth. Springing up from his bed, he bolted towards the door, meeting eyes with nothing but more darkness. His mother must have gone to bed. Thank God.

     Shaky hands ripped open a package of saltines and his lips quivered as he took bites. He could have fit the entire cracker in his mouth but his mind was telling him no. No he mustn’t. No he couldn’t. He nibbled on the food, opening the fridge and scanning for fruits or vegetables. Instead his eyes landed on a plate of dark chocolate brownies. His mom must have brought them home from work. Saliva was filling his entire mouth, nearly dripping down his chin. How long had it been since he’d eaten something delicious? Surely one wouldn’t kill him. Surely one couldn’t make him gain it all back. Not just one.

    But one didn’t satisfy him. And neither did two. His teeth hurt from chewing. He wasn’t used to sweets. The most sugar he’d had in months had been an occasional fruit. Chocolate was a whole other story. He began digging through the other cabinets, pulling out a box of protein bars, one of his favorites. His thin fingers made the foil packaging hard to tear but anything he could get his hands on at this moment was fair game. He carelessly opened a bag of shrimp chips with his left hand while he opened the freezer with his right. He could feel the weight of food inside of him and it was alien. His stomach was no longer cramping but had returned to its regular ache, as if calling out to him. More, Tobio, more. And he gave in.

     He ate until he was crying, biting open a dumpling and nearly swallowing it whole. Why couldn’t he stop? Dammit why couldn’t he stop? He was onto his second bag of chips and third protein bar when he realized he was full. More than full. In fact he needed to throw up. It humbled him and he found himself praying to whatever deity watching over him for stopping the binge. He had barely put any of the food away before he made a mad dash towards the toilet, heaving up everything he’d been exposed to within the last hour. Tasting it the second time only made him want to vomit some more. When he had nothing left to get rid of, he dry heaved, his stomach continuing to pump nothing but air out of him and then he was coughing, coughing so hard he thought he would actually keel over from lack of oxygen, but he didn’t. Like everything else in his life, it subsided. He lifted himself from the floor and flushed the toilet, stripping out of his clothes which were now coated in a sheen of sweat and puke. He wouldn’t pass out here again. Not like last time.

     From under the sink, Tobio dragged out a plain silver scale. He never weighed himself in clothes. It had to be accurate. Had to be the real deal. Nothing but him and his bones. He kicked his underwear aside and stepped onto the device which made a tiny thumping sound under his weight. 127. He’d lost a pound. Thank God. Thank God he was on track. Only 7 more to go. He could do it. He could do it. He could do it.  

     The shower that night was the most satisfying and pleasurable thing that had happened to him in months. He raked his fingernails down from his solar plexus to his abdomen, leaving an angry red trail in his wake as warm shower spray dripped down his bangs and over his face. His fat was gone. He’d really lost it. Tears prickled in his eyes. He was proud. So proud. More so than he could even remember being in his life. And yet, there was still a hollowness in his chest. He still wasn’t perfect. He wondered what it would look like to be perfect, to weigh 120. Would he truly look much different than he did now? The idea scared the hell out of him. What if 120 wasn’t enough? What if he still wasn’t satisfied after that? Would he keep going like this? It hadn’t been part of the plan. What if it got worse.

     It couldn’t. He would be perfect. He was on his way there.

     It was all part of the plan.


	3. its a new dawn its a new day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama has to go to school again eventually, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't that sad i swear. Also Tsukishima finally gets a line. Literally one line. I swear he'll play a bigger part later lmao. 
> 
> ahh!! also I wanna thank everyone for all their nice comment and kudos. Honestly you guys are the best and you inspire me to keep writing!! 
> 
> Things to look forward to in future chapters: birthday parties, Tsukki the ultimate pillow, and the big fight. 
> 
> ;) i love spoilers.

     He had to go back to school Wednesday morning. It was probably the worst part about his alarm going off; knowing that today was the day he was going to see Hinata again and he couldn’t avoid it any longer. Over the last few days he’d managed to evade all of Hinata’s texts (10 total) and calls. But now, he’d have to come face to face with him. He wished that a bus would run him over on his way there. Or maybe a plane would fall from the sky, fatally injuring him and everything around. He wondered if other people fantasized about their deaths as often as he did. Or if they did, if they were as serious about it.

     Nothing was in his system but a multi-vitamin and the few sips of water it took to take it. He’d learned a little trick. Taking vitamins on any empty stomach was supposed to make you sick. Maybe, just maybe, sick enough to send him home early, at least, that was what he’d hoped for.

     His stomach was doing summersaults but that wasn’t something out of the ordinary these days. The reason why was what was really bothering him. Whenever he had time alone to himself, he was always thinking about Hinata. Hinata clutching his shirt, his fingers on his ribs, his breath on his neck, his tears on his chest. It was nerve-wracking. Kageyama wished he didn’t care half as much as he pretended not to.

     But he did care.

     He cared so much it hurt.

     He cared that he’d hurt Hinata. And that he was ignoring him now, and probably hurting him even more. He cared that Hinata had to see him so messed up. He cared that Hinata couldn’t see it from _his_ side. Because there would be no reason for Hinata to be so upset with him if he knew how much he was improving. If only he knew how close he was to the finish line. If only he could really make him see.

     At least he’d get to play volleyball today. He’d started to really miss it, and being cooped up alone in his room was staring to drive him nuts. It would do the boy some good to feel alive again, resurrected from the crinkled sheets and stiff mattress back home.

     Kageyama discretely entered through the clubroom, changing out of his school uniform (which his mother had ironed for him this morning and was still relatively warm and creaseless) and into his jersey. It felt like greeting an old friend. Kageyama was being embraced by the light, airy material that didn’t quite stick to his skin the way it used to and now absolutely needed to be tucked into his shorts and for the drawstring on said shorts to be pulled all the way out and tied around his hips. He studied himself in the mirror pinned onto the back of the middle locker. Usually, he couldn’t stand his reflection, but today it felt good. He felt like a real boy.

    Practice was near an end by the time he emerged, feeling a complete rotation of eyes from the court to him. Daichi didn’t look pleased to be interrupted, crossing his arms in a fatherly manor that told everyone within a 10 meter radius that he was ready to scold. Kageyama braced himself for it, bending down the tie his sneakers so that his face couldn’t quite be seen as he gathered up his strength. He wouldn’t let anyone ruin this day for him. He wouldn’t let anyone knock him down. He gritted his teeth as he stood at full height, crossing the court, preparing himself for whatever comment or insult came his way. He could take it.

     “You’re late,” was all that came.

     “I know.”

     “Suga’s been setting for us for a few days now. Even Hinata’s getting used to his tosses. I don’t think you want him taking your place for good, now do you?”

     Kageyama swallowed. Setting was the one thing he excelled at. The one thing left that he really had going for him anymore. Who would threaten to take that away from him? How dare they. Inside, he was trembling at the very idea. Outside, he was as cool and callused as ever. He shook his head. Daichi let out a tiny sigh and his posture relaxed, rolling his shoulders a little as he unfolded his arms, slapping Kageyama firmly on the back. The other boy was shaken by the force of it.

     “I’m not gonna ask you what’s up, I don’t think you’d tell me even if I did, but you should know that everyone on this team cares about you. Not just as a player, either, I mean they really care about you.”

     Kageyama felt like he was talking to his mom. He spoke again with his body, nodding his head a few times as his eyes casted downward in shame. Sometimes he couldn’t bare the guilt.

     “Alright well, go out there and play. We’ve still got about 20 minutes before clean-up so make it count.”

     “Yeah.”

     Kageyama could feel Hinata’s presence before their eyes met, the ball somehow greeting his hands which he automatically began spinning against his palms. Smooth leather kissed his skin. Hinata was staring at him but his expression was unreadable. He looked exhausted, but he wasn’t one to quit half way through. The atmosphere was so intense Kageyama wondered if he might just spontaneously combust under Hinata’s gaze. Since when did the decoy have such power over him? Extending his arm, Hinata’s eyebrows lowered with determination.

     “Kageyama! One more!”

     Kageyama effortlessly tossed the ball where it needed to go and it was smacked down onto the opposite side of the net in the blink of an eye, as if some benevolent force had suddenly increased the gravity ten-fold. Hinata came back down with a squeal, holding his red aching palm to his face. Kageyama felt himself grinning before he even had time to stop it. Hinata never ceased to be amazed by his abilities and that filled a special hollowness in the setter’s dark heart.

     Maybe Hinata had forgiven him, or at least decided to shove those monsters back into Kageyama’s closet to be discussed another day. Either way, the raven haired boy was grateful. The weight that’d been dragging him down for days now was gone. Kageyama was in bliss.

     The rest of practice ran relatively smoothly, but he could still feel the gap between himself and the rest of the team. He’d really had to give it his all next practice to win them all back, or at least, to get them to stop worrying about him. Still, Hinata hadn’t told them anything about what had happened, that much was clear, so it’d be easy to get them to trust him again. Even if he did seem off. They didn’t know the half of it.

     He waited until the locker room was cleared to make his appearance, quickly changing in the far corner where no one (not even the mirror) could see him. His uniform made him look fat. Like he hadn’t lost any weight at all, the opposite desired effect. Deep down Kageyama wanted people to look at him and he wanted them to be envious of his body, of his self-control, his dedication. Who else could have done this for that long? Who else could have made themselves better? Who else would have if not him? He wanted people begging for his secrets. He wanted to be lusted after.

     Slamming his locker shut, he approached the mirror for the second time that morning but this time he picked a different topic of interest. For a moment his body disappeared and all he could see were his hideous feature. And there it was. The real problem. Kageyama was ugly. His forehead was too small and his nose was too long. His eyes were too far apart and squinty, like tiny bland almonds. His smile was crooked. His teeth needed braces. Even after losing all this weight he couldn’t make himself more beautiful. Even if he was the skinniest man alive, he wouldn’t be attractive. He considered all the things he’d like to fix about himself as the bell for homeroom chimed from inside the gym. He couldn’t keep looking at that mirror anyway. It made him feel sick.

     Throwing a towel over his reflection, Kageyama heaved his bag, heavy with geometry notes and his biology text book, over his shoulder and marched to class.

 

\--

     Hinata wasn’t at their usual spot during lunch.

      This wasn’t particularly any reason to be worried. It wasn’t like they had lunch together every single day, after all. Sometimes they just needed a break from each other. Kageyama had no reason to worry. Whatever happened between them, Hinata was over it. Practicing with him that morning had proved that much. Hinata trusted him again. All was right within the universe as Kageyama knew it. Besides, even if Hinata had shown up, the younger boy wasn’t 100% certain that he wouldn’t have turned around and bolted away from him upon first glance.

     Okay, so maybe things weren’t actually back to normal. Maybe everything was still fucked up. But they could play together again, and that was what mattered. Kageyama wasn’t going to give up on volleyball anymore, even if he felt exhausted in the mornings and nearing death by the afternoon. If Hinata could persevere, so could he. He was weak and yet he felt stronger than ever before. His hunger was gone and in fact, he had had room to spare. Maybe he could try to make himself throw up. He hadn’t tried it since the night after his binge but he was confident that he could do it. He had been feeling nauseous ever since this morning’s conversation with the mirror anyway.

     There was a certain spring in his step as he parted from the classroom to seek out the toilets. Anyone who was walking past him was simply a blur of motion that could hardly be registered. The desire to purge was blinding. Kageyama didn’t even have anything he needed to get rid of. He skipped breakfast in the morning, as per-usual, and his dinner the night previous had been sparse. It hardly warranted wanting to throw up, but Kageyama couldn’t deny his own excitement and desire. He could almost smile.

     Darting straight towards a vacant stall, Kageyam’s back rested against the cold aluminum door, kicking his bag to the side and trying to position himself so that he wouldn’t puke on his shirt and wouldn’t have to put his knees on the dirty tile floor. He settled for a wide crouch, his hands (wrapped in toilet paper) gripping the seat while his body weight was mostly supported on the tips of his toes. He didn’t force his fingers down his throat, instead closing his eyes and focusing on the waves of nausea crashing over him. He thought about all the food that had sat in his stomach the night of his binge. All the waste he had to dispose of. He thought about eating sweets and cramming himself full of everything that parents we’re supposed to feed their children. 

     He didn’t even notice someone else was there with him until he heard the flush of the toilet next to him. Fuck. There went his concentration. And he’d been so close too. Kageyama figured he could wait until the bystander left to finish his duty but when five minutes had passed and he still hadn’t seen those feet move from under the stall (what the fuck was he doing anyway? Hadn’t he already flushed?!) he gave up hope. Slipping out of his makeshift toilet-paper mittens and chucking them in the bowl, he used the wall to push himself up, heaving his bag back over his shoulder that was beginning to ache under its weight. The shoes under the stall beside him still hadn’t moved and he figured whatever that person was doing in there, he didn’t want to find out. He rinsed off his hands, tempted to also dunk his head under the cold spray. Maybe he would drown. He blinked the thoughts away, turning on his heels, ready to exit when his chest collided with another warm and study body.

     Tsukishima glared down at him through thick glasses and Kageyama felt his heart leap. An irrational part of him was telling him he was busted but he knew that couldn’t be true. The blonde blocker had only just got there. And besides, even if he had seen him leaving the toilets what proof did he have that he was trying to make himself throw up? Kageyama’s shoulder’s relaxed and his face settled back into its usual pout.

     “Move outta the way,” Tsukki sighed, sliding his comically large headphones off of his ears until they hung limply around his neck like a white plastic noose. Kageyama grunted, his shoulder knocking into his, shoving past him and marching back into the cold and desolate hallway. Tsukishima’s mere presence always set the setter on edge ever since their very first meeting. There was something about his piercingly gold eyes, rimmed with black. Something about his slouched posture. Something about his shit-eating smirk. Something that made Kageyama’s skin crawl. Made him want to dock him.

     Kageyama moped all the way back to class. He hadn’t gotten to throw up and he had to look at Tsukishima’s dumb face. What a disappointing lunch. He found himself thinking about Hinata, slumping down in his seat, his head pressed against his desk. What was Hinata doing rather than having lunch with him right now? Maybe he was still upset. Fuck. Whatever. He could make it up to him. Hinata was easy to please. He’d just buy him a meat bun on the way home or toss to him particularly more than any of the other’s during practice. Things would get better. He was sure of it.

     By the time after school practice had rolled around, Kageyama couldn’t wait to get back in the gym. He was suffocating all day, a deadly combination of bored and annoyed that made him want to stab himself with his pencil just to get out of class. He was desperate to be in motion. It was only his first day back and already he was addicted to the adrenaline volleyball gave him. He’d missed it so much. He’d missed his team. But mostly, it was Hinata that was pulling him back in. Stupid, annoying, chaotic Hinata who was his polar opposite in every since of word and yet somehow still managed to become his best friend and the person he trusted most. Dumbass Hinata.

     Their combination was exhilarating, Hinata never letting up and calling for toss after toss after toss until practice was over. Kageyama soaked the front of his shirt in water in a desperate attempt to inhale the bottle as Tanaka and Nishinoya enganged in some avid conversation about which girls they liked and Asahi went to work putting away the net. The sunshine-embodied decoy was nowhere to be found. Kageyama wiped the sweat from his brow, his lips pulled down into a tight frown as he scanned the gym again. Where had he gone? Had he already left without even saying goodbye? Maybe he was changing back into his uniform, though that was something Hinata rarely did after a good practice. (“That’s a waste of energy Kageyama!! I’m just gonna end up changing again when I get home anyway! And it’s too hot outside to wear all black!”). Just as the setter was about to check the clubroom for him, a mop was pushed into his chest.

     “Oh no you don’t,” Daichi teased, dragging a bucket of soapy water towards him. “You skipped out on cleaning duties for three days while the rest of us picked up the slack. It’s your turn.”

     Kageyama took hold of the mop in his sweaty, ball-beaten palms and nodded silently. He’d have plenty more times to talk to Hinata anyway. There was no sense in rushing it. Besides, maybe the time away would be good. Maybe Hinata would forget that morning even happened.

     Daichi gave him the keys to lock up as the last of the team flooded from the gym.

     Kageyama could see his reflection on the glossy floor.


	4. Momma's Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama gets invited to a party and debates whether or not to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little boring but its leading up to some REALLY big things i swear. i just wanted to write a kinda cute part about kageyama's mom cause she's gonna be important later and someone has to be nice to his poor boy. Kageyama is such a momma's boy smh. 
> 
> again thanks for all the comments and kudos and junk. I love reading comments tbh like please please write me something. motivate me to put out another chapter cause let me tell you the next one is gonna be a big one. 
> 
> also im gonna be going through and fixing all the mistakes i made while writing this this week so if you guys wanna help me out and tell me what needs fixing thatd be nice tbh.

Things weren’t getting better.

            In fact everything was starting to plummet again. Kageyama’s life was just one inevitable fall after another. He couldn’t catch a fucking break. Hinata wasn’t talking to him outside of volleyball. He wasn’t losing weight anymore. He wasn’t improving in anything. He was stuck. Frozen. He was still in the exact same spot while everything around him kept moving and moving and moving. Days passed by and yet he was still that boy sleeping on the bathroom floor. He was so sick of just being himself. He really wanted to fucking die.

            Okay, so maybe that was a little dramatic.

            Kageyama knew that if there was one thing he’d never do it was commit suicide. It wasn’t that the idea didn’t appeal to him, exactly. No, he was pretty sure he spent an abnormal amount of time each day fantasizing about dying. He just didn’t think dying would give him any relief. If anything, he’d just become an even bigger burden on those who were still around. There was no escaping his guilt. It’d follow him even after death.

            So that just wasn’t an option.

            Besides, it wasn’t like he actually had a reason to kill himself. He was sure that plenty of other people had it worse than him. Plenty or people had an actual justified reason to want to die. And what the hell was even wrong with his life anyway? Sure his dad was kind of a loser who abandoned him and his mother, but that was years ago. It wasn’t even something he thought about anymore. As far as he was really concerned, his home life was fine. Kageyama loved his mom. He really did. And he loved his friends.

            He just hated himself.

            Everything about him was disgusting inside and out. He wished he could perform some sort of metamorphosis. Or maybe he could just delete his life all together and become someone else. Maybe someone who wasn’t a complete waste or space, this time. Or someone who could control their anger. Who wasn’t obsessed with their weight. Who knew how to be happy. That’d be more than he could ever ask for. 

            In all honestly, Kageyama wished that he could be like Hinata. Happy for no reason. Happy just to be alive and to be doing what he loved every day of his life. God, wouldn’t that be something. Kageyama could remember himself feeling the same before he entered high school, but the memory was distant and clouded with thick opaque fog. Hinata was probably the perfect human being. Kageyama secretly wished that some of that perfection would rub off on him the more time they spent together.

            And it did. Just a little.

            When he was around Hinata he felt like he could really breathe.

            That was probably why he felt like he was suffocating now without him. They’d barely spoken a word to each other in weeks. Kageyama was certain that he was being avoided, punished even. His heart sagged in his chest at the mere sight of the other. He felt like he was on the receiving end of a bad break up. And worst of all, Hinata was getting along fine without him. He didn’t need the setter the way that Kageyama needed him. Hinata was like life-support. Like oxygen.

            The setter wondered how it was so easy to ignore someone you saw every day. Even when they were putting the net away together after practice, hell, even when they were working on their freak quick together, Hinata was distant. It felt like a thin sheet of ice was covering him. Everyone else could melt that ice and touch Hinata. The real Hinata. The one Kageyama craved. But he could only get to that hard outer shell. It was incredibly frustrating.

            Right now they were sweeping and mopping the floors. Hinata wasn’t even looking at him. He seemed utterly focused on the task at hand, even when Kageyama bumped into him from behind. He didn’t even make a sound. Not even a glare back towards him. What was his fucking deal?

            “Oi!! Kageyama! Hinata!” Tanaka roared from the far corner of the gym, waving the pair over enthusiastically. A small crowd of fellow teammates were gathered around the wing-spiker, seemingly enthralled and chirping like birds at one another. The line of Hinata’s mouth curled upwards for the first time in 10 minutes (not that Kageyama was counting) and he abandoned his post, charging over. The setter leisurely crossed the court, trying to keep his distance and separate himself from the rest. He was still part of the team but it didn’t feel like it much anymore. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock, waiting for the first opportunity to dash home where he could be alone for at least a full 5 hours or so until his mom came home from work.

            He realized, belatedly, that he’d been daydreaming this whole time as a thin sheet of paper was shoved into his chest. He staggered back. “What the hell is this?”

            His senpais grinned back. “Noya-san and I’s party,” Tanaka replied, his finger stabbing at his own copy of the invite which he held suspended in the air dramatically.“Can’t you read?”

            Kageyama’s cheeks heated a little in embarrassment. He always got caught asking stupid question. Lifting the sheet in front of his face as a shield, he analyzed the crudely hand-made invite. A party. This Friday. Kageyama’s gut tightened at the very idea of being mashed together in a crowded house with 20-some other people, laughing and having a good time while he himself was miserable and uncomfortable 24/7. He crumbled the paper in his hands. “I’ll see if I can go.” He meant to say that he wasn’t interested. Maybe even something harsher, but the words just wouldn’t come as bright enthusiastic eyes peered down at him.

            Besides, there was the chance that Hinata would actually go to this stupid thing. And then maybe he could get him alone, finally gather up the courage to ask what was bothering him, to fix this before it got out of hand and it was already spiraling down the drain. Kageyama never thought he could feel something as rare as hope coming from a crumbled slip of blue construction paper in his hand. Peering sideways at Hinata, he was struck by the radiating warmth of his smile and his heart instantly picked up. Yeah, maybe he could go. If only for a few minutes. Who else would keep an eye on the decoy anyway. If he went alone he’d end up drunk off his ass. That idiot had no self-control.

            When he finally, finally got home, he couldn’t wait to just be by himself. He forgot how much energy it took being on a team. All the socializing and faking content. It was nice to just be somewhere where he could let his sadness out and not feel like he was manipulating someone because of it. He liked to go into his bathroom, taking his time with it as he ran the bath water, dragging that old familiar scale out and pressing his weight onto it, first with clothes on. It always made the reveal so much more satisfying as he took his time stripping off an article and staring down at the new number. It was soothing to him. Peeling away layers of weight. Even if he was still the same as before when he was done to just skin. He wondered why he wasn’t going down anymore. Maybe he was starting to build muscle again from over-exerting himself at practice. Yes, that had to be it. And he was fine with that, really. As long as he didn’t start gaining.

            When he set the scale back in its rightful position under his mom’s tampons and makeup bags, he gave his body a glance over. He was skinniest right at his middle, where there used to be hard fat it was now mostly skin over bone. His skin had become particularly elastic over this area. He was able to pinch it and pull it out about an inch away from the rest of him. At first, this made him happy. An obvious sign of his weight loss, but now it was just another disgusting thing about his body. He glared menacingly at his reflection as he slid into the scalding bathwater. This was all part of the routine. He’d sit here for another hour or so until he mom came home and then he would do homework at the kitchen table while she watched TV. Creatures of habit, they both were.

            Kageyama found himself nibbling on the corner of a saltine as some adult-oriented and mostly likely politically slanted cartoon filled the silence between them. His mother had her reading glasses on, staring down at some sort of chart. Recently, she’d decided to go back to school to become an anesthesiologist and the hospital she was working at provided her with free classes. It was ideal, considering her husband, and main source of income, was seemingly gone for good. They had both given up on him by now. Both moved on. She’d grown tough over the years. Strong. Admirable. Working during the days and studying at night all for the benefit of her only son. Her precious Tobio, who was dissipating away into the atmosphere as every day passed. Kageyama couldn’t blame her for not noticing. He couldn’t blame her at all. None of this was her fault. It was his. He was an ungrateful son.

            He broke off a bit of saltine, chewing it into nasty paste and rubbing the substance over his gums.

            “Did anything interesting happen at school today, Tobio?” she finally asked, setting down the papers in her lap and rubbing her eyes as she proped her steel-framed glasses up on top of her head. She looked so much younger without them on. Kageyama began to shake his head but then stopped himself.  

            “Well, actually. Uh one of my teammates is having a party this weekend. Well two of them actually. I think it’s someone’s birthday? Anyway, I got invited.” He propped his elbow up on the table and leaned his chin down onto it, trying to look more uninterested than he actually was.

            “Ah. So you’re asking my permission now? And here I thought you were getting too old for that. You know the rule Tobio, as long as you’re back before midnight and keep your phone turned on,” she hummed, her cheeks lifting in a smile that could only be described as soothing.

            “Well I wasn’t sure if I should go or not. I have a lot of homework.” It was a blatant lie. He’d been re-writing the same singular math problem for nearly an hour now, anyway. He wasn’t in difficult classes. He barely ever came home with anything other than a few group projects here and there, but hopefully his mom would catch the hidden meaning. Tobio was far too proud to ask for advice. Not in a way that could easily be recognized, anyway. His mother’s brows drew together.

            “Sweetheart, I think you should go. Your friends went through the trouble of inviting you didn’t they? It’d be rude not to show up. Plus you spend half your life moping around the house. You need to get out more! You’re a teenage boy. Go have some fun and don’t worry about homework you can always do it the day after.” Suddenly she pushed herself up from the sofa, stalking towards her son who self-consciously curled in on himself. Sweeping her hand through identical black hair she perched her lips softly on his forehead. Kageyama would have wrinkled his nose in disgust had it been anyone else. Instead his cheeks heated with embarrassment. He scrubbed the spot with the back of his hand as she pulled away.

            “You say I’m a teenage boy but you’re always doing that like I’m a baby,” he mumbled, thought this only elicited another delicate smile.

            “Tobio, Tobio. You’ll always be my baby,” her voice was so soft it could almost be a lullaby, “Go to sleep once you finish up your homework, okay? I’m going to take a bath. Do you need me to put something in the oven for dinner? Did you already eat?”    

            “No, that’s okay.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yeah.”

            She carded her fingers through his hair again, letting it fall back down over his eyes and making a mental note to bring the grouchy boy in for a haircut sometime soon. “Alright,” she sighed. “If you say so. Goodnight Tobio.”

            “Night.”

            He waited until she was completely out of sight to let his shoulder’s sag. Now he really had to go to the damn thing. He’d dug his own grave. But deep down, he really needed the extra push. Dragging his feet into his room, he collapsed on top of his bed, thinking, whatever happens Friday, happens.


	5. getting drunk is better than dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama goes to the party to get shit-faced NOT to see Hinata. Definetly not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to write. It's been a little difficult to keep up with this fic because writing it kind of hurts, but it's good to vent out frustrations this way. Thanksgiving was this week and it's probably one of the hardest days for people with an e.d. so please be patient with them.

The days slipped right through Kageyama’s fingers and it was Friday before he could even remember there being a Wednesday or Thursday. The setter, as with the rest of the team he was sure, felt alive with jitters. His limbs voiced this for him. Try as he did, his legs just wouldn’t stop shaking and bouncing around. It was an annoying habit of his. Kageyama hated it when his body gave him away, but he couldn’t help but feel a little antsy as he chased the clock hands down to the very last second.

            At eight o’ clock, Kageyama Tobio stalled himself in his bathroom. His mom was working overtime. No one was forcing him to go. And yet, there he was. A pile of clothes formed to the right of him, slowly building into a mountain as he tossed yet another shirt to the floor. Why did it matter so much? Why did he care what he looked like, anyway? It wasn’t like he was going there to do anything other than keep himself away from the fridge whispering his name. It wasn’t like he was going there for anything other than to distract himself from the project that was due Monday morning. It wasn’t like he was going there to see Hinata.

            He didn’t know why his heart made such a fuss over that. Just the thought of the other boy’s name sent a surge of indecipherable emotion through him. He wanted to hit himself for it. Bash his face into the side of the wall chanting _Hinata Hinata Hinata_.

            Kageyama threw a grey button-up to his feet with a frustrated groan. His chest heaved as he met his reflection and his hands instinctively reached up to grope himself, cover himself. His palms shielded his pectorals from his view first before gliding south to pinch the flesh of his stomach. Disgusting. He needed to cover up. The raven bowed his head to pick up the red hoodie he’d previously discarded under a copious amount of monochromatic shirts. He held it up to his chest, stretching the arms out and pressing it to him with his chin. _Fuck it_ , he thought, worming his head into the opening and tugging it down over his exposed stomach. It’d have to do. Who was he dressing up for anyway? It was just the team. He hoped. He hoped there wouldn’t be more people coming. The thought of spending his weekend surrounded by the drunk faces of unrecognizable teens made his gut twist.

            It would be fine.

            He was going.

            His mom wanted him to go. _Be social, Tobio. Make friends Tobio. You’re a teenage boy, Tobio. Go out and have fun._ He wanted nothing more than to please her in that moment. Maybe doing that would shoulder some of his guilt for deceiving her. His mother. She deserved a better son.

            Tobio tilted his chin up in the mirror. He was glaring. Raising his eyebrows, he relaxed his face and tilted it until his jaw was parallel with the glass. He could see everything he wanted to fix about himself but didn’t have time to dwell upon it. Instead, he scooped up the collection of shirts and jeans and carried it back into his room, letting the pile loose on his bed. The party had started a good 45 minutes ago. He was already late.

            Stealing his house keys from his dresser, he stuffed them into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled up the hood, tugging at the draw strings back and forth until they were even on either side. He wouldn’t lose this battle with himself. Not today. He wouldn’t go back to bed. He was going to this fucking party if he died trying. Fuck being miserable. Fuck being obsessed with his own sadness. Kageyama forced a smile that was much more a grimace than anything else and flashed it towards himself in the mirror he usually had covered up in the far corner of his room. His expression dropped back in an instant as he realized how ridiculous he looked, smiling at himself like that. If he could even call it smile.

            “Whatever” he announced half-heartedly at the reflection, marching towards the door and locking himself out, inhaling the crisp night air. It burned his lungs.

            He shrugged his hand out of his pocket to turn on his cellular data to pull up google maps long enough to figure out where he was going. It was only a 5 minute walk. He could feel a breath of relief leaving his chest. If worse came to worse, home was only 5 minutes away. 3 if he sprinted. That was the plan. The moment things went south he’d sprint. It’d do him some good to exercise anyway. His bones felt brittle. He missed the days when it didn’t hurt to rest his weight on his scrawny legs. The raven drew up the hood over his hair, following the directions the soft electronic voice of his phone whispered into his palm. He took a left down by the spot he usually intersected Hinata when they walked to school together. His throat tightened. He didn’t think he’d ever felt more on edge.

            Like a snake had slithered into his mouth and was now slowly squeeze its thick body around his windpipe. Sure, he could breathe and swallow, but every time he did so, it tightened just a little more. The idea to stop walking and just head back home while he still had the time crossed his mind a good three times but somehow he just couldn’t get his feet to corporate and they took him all the way towards the house. There were three cars parked on the side of the road and every light seemed to be on all at once, reflecting out the windows. It illuminated the entire street. Tobio peeled his shoes from his feet at the front porch, knocking awkwardly. He waited what seemed like an entire hour before he finally caught someone’s attention.

            Yamaguchi’s head nearly slammed against Kageyama’s as he went to poke his head out the door and greet whoever was knocking. His eyes were lazy and his cheeks were dusted with pink, a blue plastic cup in his free hand. “Heeeeeey,” he greeted almost flirtatiously, slouching to the side to allow Kageyama entrance. Were people already drunk? Wasn’t he only an hour late?

            “Uh. Hi,” he replied, sliding his shoes into the indistinguishable cluster of countless others on the floor. Tobio didn’t even have to make eye contact with the room to know it was swelled with people. He could feel the heat radiating off of their bodies. Someone’s IPod was hooked up to the sound system in the middle of the room and everyone seemed gathered around it, dancing with their cups of mystery toxins and brushing hips, laughing with red cheeks. There were so many girls. How did his senpais know so many girls?

            Kageyama felt the distinguishable desire to puke.

            “Oi! It’s the man of the fuckin’ hour!” Tanaka growled from behind him, clasping him firmly on the shoulder with a harsh laugh. “Didn’t think you’d show up!”

            A slightly more than utterly intoxicated Noya appeared at his side, barely standing. “leave it to,” he interrupted himself with a little hiccup, “’yama to show up late.”

            “Saeko bought booze,” the spiker bragged, the pair of them exchanging snickers as Tanaka’s knuckles grazed his head. Tobio winced and dislodged him quickly. “Ahhaha.. He’s too sober. Kageyama you’re to sober. You can’t be all uptight like…all the time!” He poked a finger harshly into his chest as if to illustrate his point, tipping his head down towards Nishinoya who gave him a thumbs of approval as if to say he was doing a great job at peer-pressuring. Both of them were drunk off their asses.

            “I only just got here,” Tobio muttered. He probably wasn’t even heard. The music had switched to some particularly loud K-pop song and Kageyama could have wrinkled his nose at the choice. The bald boy’s hand slapped him reassuringly on the shoulder with another drunken chuckle. “Then you need a drink. Kitchen. There’s some cups just take any of ‘em. And there’s beers. Those are in the freezer though.”

            “You mean the fridge,” Noya interjected.

            “The fridge,” Tanaka corrected with a nod. He finally eased up his grip on Kageyama’s shoulder and the boy could’ve sworn there would be fingerprints there tomorrow morning. He’d only been there for 5 minutes and was already ready to leave. Oh well. He was already here right? He could suck it up and stay for at least an hour. Plus, he hadn’t gotten to see Hinata yet. Fuck. Ok, he had to stop thinking of Hinata like he was some sort of main event. Like he was the headliner and everything else was just to keep the crowd distracted and docile.

            Kageyama dragged his jittery body into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding bumping into some random girl wearing an Aoba Johsai sweatshirt. The kitchen was a collision of split drinks on the floor and crushed solo cups that’d been trampled over in what the setter could only assume was a stampede of wild zoo animals. He tried to examine each cup, looking for one that didn’t look like it belonged to someone else and avoiding ones obviously marked with lipstick and spit. When he’d finally selected one (deciding he didn’t particular care who had been on it before him) he turned back to face the crowd. There was still no Hinata in sight. Kageyama didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved. Maybe he wasn’t even here. Maybe this whole visit had been a waste.

            He tried to remember what his plan had been in the first place. What he’d have done if Hinata were hear. He supposed there was some sort of fantasy in his head. He’d pull Hinata out of the crowd and ask why he’d been avoiding him. He’d talk some sense into him, make him realize how much better Kageyama was this way. Show him the body he’d worked so hard for. Out of all the people he knew, Kageyama desperately wanted Hinata to realize how good he looked. He wanted him to see the difference. He wanted someone to praise him for his determination and to reward him with their approval. It was also as delicious to him as a steaming bowl of noodles. He wanted Hinata to know. He wanted Hinata to understand. He wanted Hinata to accept.

            The ravened haired boy’s eyes drifted down towards his solo cup, pulling himself away from his thoughts as he realized he’d been glaring out at the crowd. He watched the liquid ripple in the cup as he squeezed his fingers down over the bent electric blue plastic before raising it and slurping the clear fluid down in one go. It was disgusting. Kageyama choked on the burning sensation, rasping and wincing as he swallowed. How did people enjoy this crap? It was worse than the burn after throwing up. (Kageyama was bias, of course. He preferred the purging to the binging). Still, the liquid, which seemed to be vodka by the taste and appearance, was the taste equivalent to a swarm of bees stinging his tongue, he decided.

            “This blows,” he muttered to himself. And it really did. As if to provide more support for this statement, the drunk Aoba Johsai girl bumped into him from behind and her drink soaked the back of Kageyama’s hoodie. He whipped his head around and the girl squeaked at the intensity of his gaze. Kageyama found himself wishing very hard at that moment that he had laser vision and could melt right through that girl’s irritating face.

            “Sorry!” she chuckled anxiously. Kageyama simply growled, adjusting the drawstrings of his hoodie as he pulled the hood up again.

            “Whatever,” he croaked back, taking another cup from the table that looked relatively unmarked. It wasn’t like things could get much worse.

             Kageyama was feeling pleasantly buzzed from his first drink. He’d tried alcohol before. He’d known other people who stole it from their parents or their brother or bought it off some guy in their neighborhood and were willing to share, but he’d never gotten fully drunk before. Only buzzed. He wondered if that was because he used to be so heavy. Back when he weighed closer to 150, he couldn’t seem to get any pleasure out of drinking at all. But now, almost at 100, he was feeling a little light headed. Comfortably numb. For once it felt like his throat wasn’t being strangled by that damned boa constrictor. Maybe he was drowning it. Kageyama took another big swig for a good measure.

            By his second cup he was steadily approaching drunkenness. He vaguely wondered how many calories a cup of vodka was. Did alcohol have calories? He didn’t care. The music was a faint throb in his ears and he didn’t quite know how long he’d been standing in the kitchen. His legs felt wobbly. The room looked darker but time felt like an irrelevant thing. He kept taking sip after sip after sip and everything was perfect. He’d passed the point of drinking away his tears and was finally onto the good part. He might have actually began enjoying himself even. He listened in on the conversation between two strangers about someone’s boyfriend’s parents and found himself laughing along with them as the story met its climax. He didn’t care if he looked stupid doing it.

            He didn’t care at all.

            Not even when an orange blurriness peaked itself from the corner of Kageyama’s vision and his chest constricted. He pushed himself up off the kitchen counter with his elbows and somehow among a crowd of 30+ people, Kageyama’s drunk blurry eyes sorted out Hinata’s stern amber ones. Fire rose in his stomach. Hinata. That bastard. That asshole. That fucking ray of sunlight who was depriving him of life. An irrational (drunk) part of Kageyama was quick to fill that sadness that seeped into the setter. That hurt he felt from being avoiding. It was quick to replace it with anger. With jealously. Kageyama’s nostrils flared and he sloshed his cup (his fourth one?) around as he pushed his reluctant body forward. Hinata held his gaze, curiously watching as the raven haired boy slid between heaps of faceless moving bodies.

            The closer he got, the more he could feel Hinata’s presence radiating warmth into him. If Kageyama was a plant, he’d be photosynthesizing.

            Basking in that beautiful glow.

            But sadly, Kageyama wasn’t. He was a miserable and pathetic human being and he latched almost painfully onto Hinata’s arm, feeling the other jump at the unexpected touch. Unlike himself, Hinata seemed mostly sober, but he could smell a hint of liquor on his breath as he tugged him away from the crowd and into a mostly vacant hallway. “Kage-” Hinata began, confusion clear in his voice. He was cut off as the other all but shoved him into one of the unlocked (there weren’t many) rooms, breathing hard.

            “Kageyama,” Hinata repeated, stronger this time, less afraid. He arched an eyebrow, breaking his wrist free of the boy’s grasp. It probably wasn’t that hard to do. Kageyama knew his limitations when it came to strength. It was just another sacrifice to him. Hinata’s face hardened. “What are you doing?”

            “Wanted to talk,” Kageyama growled back out, pinning Hinata against the door with his height advantage. The smaller boy didn’t look amused, pushing against his shoulder to try to free himself.

            “About what?” he asked with an exhausted huff.

            “You.”

            “Me?”

            “You avoiding me.”

            Hinata turned his face away with an unreadable expression, something between pained and guilty. Kageyama wobbled backwards a bit to give the boy space. He knew he wouldn’t run away. Hinata wasn’t that type. When a problem arose, he sorted it out. He faced things head on, even if they were too big for him. The red-head bit into his lip.

            “I wasn’t _trying_ ,” he protested. Kageyama grunted at the response, unsatisfied.

            “Yes you were,” he shot back.

            Hinata lowered his eyes to the ground again and Kageyama resumed his previous position, taking a possessive step forward. Now that he had Hinata here, alone, he felt so many things running through his head. The desire to make Hinata understand. The anger of being rejected. The guilt of letting them get this way, so broken apart. So awkward. This used to feel so natural to him. Now, he needed liquor to work up the courage.

            “Say something,” Kageyama muttered, all breath. Hinata flinched a little, lifting his head. His cheeks were a tinted pink and Kageyama wondered if it was the alcohol. His own body was beginning to react to it too. He’d only been feeling it acutely before but now it washed over him completely. Okay, Kageyama was pretty drunk. He’d never been this drunk before. Probably.

            “You’re really drunk,” Hinata replied, like he was reading the taller boy’s mind, sliding his hand up to Kageyama’s forehead like he was sick. The setter was reminded of how tenderly Hinata had touched him that night. He hated thinking about it. Thinking about it made him feel sick in such a way that made him always stop short of a description. The night Hinata cried on him. The night that would forever only be referred to as “that night”.

            “A little,” Kageyama admitted, swatting Hinata’s hand away weakly. He was still waiting for a response.

            “No like.. a lot.”

            “Okay, a lot.”

            “Why?”

            Kageyama blinked. Why had he drank so much? He didn’t really know. It was sort of like asking someone why they took medicine when they had a headache. Why they went to the bathroom when they had to piss. Kageyama was at a party. He had to drink. He tried to explain this to Hinata, though his brain was much less eloquent at the moment and instead what came out was, “I had to.”

            Hinata gave him a strange sort of look, prompting him for an explanation of some sort. The best he received was another shrug.

            “You drank too,” Kageyama argued, childishly and Hinata waved his arms theatrically.

            “Only like one!”

            “So? You’re smaller than me. One for you is probably still enough to be drunk,” he reasoned though he knew that wasn’t right. He wondered now if Hinata weighed more or less than he did. He had to weigh less. Kageyama still had so much more to lose before he looked anything like Hinata. With his small shoulders. Small hips. Small thighs. Hinata thighs probably fit snugly in his hands.

            “Kageyama?”

            “Mm?”

            “You totally are drunk.”

            Kageyama felt like laughing. It was sort of nice like this. His anger was fading just a little. It felt like he was talking to Hinata again for the first time in ages. He could pick out the amused look on the smaller boy’s face and his chest exploded with flames.

            “You’re acting weird,” Hinata said and his back arched off the door, his chest pushing into Kageyama’s and Kageyama’s hands instinctively rushed the fill the gap between Hinata and the platform they were both leaning again. For support. Right. His fingers felt out the muscles of Hinata’s back and his thumbs dug into his shoulders. The smaller boy’s breath hitched. Barely noticeable. It probably wouldn’t have even been heard if they weren’t so close. “I’ll stop ignoring you.”

            Kageyama’s lips twitched up and he hummed in approval, closing his eyes. He felt dizzy. The room was spinning.

            “Kageyama.”

            “Mm.”

            “Kageyama.”

            The taller boy pulled his face away from Hinata’s neck where he’d slumped unintentionally and knocked his nose against Hinata’s cheek as his eyes half lidded at the other, letting him know he was listening.

            “Can you get off me?”  

            “Nope.”

            “Kageyama,” Hinata grunted in warning but the taller boy only muffled a laugh against his skin which prompted a shiver from the spiker’s body.

            “You’re the one being weird,” Kageyama muttered again, his lips just barely grazing that soft porcelain skin as he spoke. Hinata’s hands tightened around his forearms and he shuddered once more. He didn’t think before crushing his mouth hotly against Hinata’s neck, feeling the red head gasp above him. His lower body stirred and his fingers dug further into the dips of Hinata’s spine. He trailed open mouthed kisses up to his ear, lazily letting his tongue glide across the shell of it and earning a weak whimper in response. Hinata was so vocal. It was really firing him up.

            Abruptly, he felt Hinata tilt his head, shifting Kageyama’s lips off of him for a brief moment that felt like nothing but tension as their noses brushed. Kageyama’s eyes closed. He felt weightless. Woozy. Hinata was making his head spin. Or maybe it was the alcohol. The setter didn’t have time to dwell on which was which, however, as he found his lips locked in a heated match with the other boy’s. _What were they doing? What was he doing?_

            Kissing was so different than he’d imagined it’d be. All he felt was wetness. The slick slide of Hinata’s tongue against his. The pressure of his soft lips. Kageyama was melting. A low moan was exchanged from his mouth to Hinata’s and the smaller eagerly swallowed it. Alarms were ringing in his head. This was dangerous. This was so dangerous. But he couldn’t stop. He knew he was being selfish but he didn’t care. How could he when the pounding in his head was being matched with the beating of his heart and heat was seeping between his legs. This was what it felt like to be adored, he told himself. To be trusted. To be needed. Hinata was growling against his lips again, sucking hard as his fingers found their way up his hoodie.

            A breathless, encouraging whimper left Kageyama’s lips and Hinata dutifully searched further, carrying warm hands soothingly across his frail back around to his chest, fondling him. All Kageyama knew was warmth. Thumbs caught softly at his nipples and drew little circles there, eliciting a moan from the setter’s mouth, another praise. The kiss was broken as they found themselves both too distracted to continue, Kageyama panting out against the smaller boy’s lips, eyes half lidded as Hinata’s own were blown wide.

            Everything was overwhelming. If Kageyama were a machine he’d have short circuited. He could only imagine how much more intense it’d feel if he wasn’t drunk. The intoxication only served to add a fuzzy haze around them, like being incased in smoke. Kageyama was positively burning alive. _This is dangerous,_ his head was chanting. _This is dangerous. This isn’t right._

            And then everything stopped.

            Hinata’s lips were in a tight line and his brows drooped sorrowfully. His head tipped upward and Kageyama was struck with the sudden fierceness of his expression. The teen was tempted to ask what was wrong. _What happened. Why’d you stop? Hinata. Hinata. Hinata._

             But, his question died on his lips. It was answered by a light squeeze to his side, By Hinata’s finger’s tracing his ribs. He could almost count them. Could almost touch the fingers on his left hand to the ones on his right as they cupped his waist. Almost. Hinata was probably disappointed that he hadn’t lost more weight since the last time he’d seen him like this. Kageyama felt sick. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath as its gills filled with air. Hinata was waiting for an explanation.

            “I know I…,” he took a deep breath, “I’m still a little big, I know I haven’t been losing as much weight as I should-” he began but Hinata’s horrified expression cut him off.

            “You… no. You’re _trying_ to lose weight?”

            Kageyama’s brow furrowed. Wasn’t that obvious? Wasn’t that what’d been on the tip of everyone’s tongue. _What’s different about Kageyama? What’s changed?_ Everyone had to have known by now. Didn’t they? Couldn’t they see that?  

            “I don’t understand.” Kageyama didn’t know which one of them had said it. Hinata cowered back against the door as the raven desperately tried to rekindle that fire they’d lost in conversation. He pressed Hinata’s hands firmly against his stomach.

            “See? It’s almost flat. I’m getting better I just need a little more time and I can get there. Hinata- ”

            “Better?” he gasped incredulously. _“Better_? Are you serious? Look at yourself!”

            The setter’s brows furrowed. A lump welled up in his throat. The hands on his stomach had shoved him away and a frenzied, panicked look replaced his initial confusion. Rejection. Kageyama knew the feeling well.

            “You’re… this is disgusting.”

            Kageyama’s lips trembled. Disgusting. Disgusting. Of course. Of course he was still disgusting. How could he have let himself believe he was anything less. His heart sank in his chest. He felt like throwing up. He really felt like throwing up. He was going to throw up all over Hinata and he’d never talk to him again.

            “I don’t like you like this. It’s not…okay. It’s scary,” Hinata continued and the setter wanted to cover his mouth with his hand to keep to slew of insults from spilling out of it but a part of him needed to hear it. A part of him thrived off of this. It was the food that kept him from another binge. He was disgusting. He needed to eat less. He needed to remember what he was doing this for.

            Kageyama hadn’t realized he’d gone quiet until Hinata demanded he say something, pinning him with a gaze that was heated in all the wrong ways. It made the raven’s blood run cold as ice. Again, he opened his mouth but not a sound fell from his lips. He shut it immediately. Hinata’s eyes were filled with painful tears. Kageyama was being ripped in two. His guts spilling out on the floor. If only, he thought, miserably.

            “I don’t understand what’s going on with you,” the decoy whispered, voice shaking. His hand was on the door knob and the turn was agonizingly slow. So slow that Kageyama had time to daydream three separate scenarios that could keep Hinata from leaving. He could kiss him again, maybe. Or just pull him into his arms in such a tight embrace that the red head would never be able to leave. All of these things meant nothing. The real Kageyama was motionless. Glued to the spot. Frozen in time as the door creaked open and Hinata slipped through the crack, slipped through Kageyama’s fingers. Again. Maybe this time he wouldn’t be able to push the fragments of their relationship back together.

            Kageyama’s legs jiggled before they slid out from under him. His ass made contact with the floor and his back closed the door again, isolating himself like he always did. Behind the door he wondered if Hinata was doing the same, but he knew logically that the boy had already left. He could still hear music from the living room and it wasn’t quite loud enough to distract him from wallowing in the pathetic sad thoughts that occupied his brain. His head thumped against the door with a dramatic sigh, limbs sprawled out on the carpet. He might as well make himself comfortable, he reasoned. He didn’t know when he’d feel stable enough to get up again.


	6. analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima didn't want to get invited into Kageyama's mess but here he was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w OAH SORRY FOR THE LONG BREAK YOU GUYS HAHAAHA I KNOW I LEFT YOU AT A MAJOR CLIFF HANGER GOMEN!! 
> 
> anyway I hope this chapter maybe makes up for the one preceding it? and maybe the next one too because well, ive still got a lot of suffering to write before Kageyama can really deal with his demons. Anyway this chapter features a lot of tsukki s i hope you like that and it isnt too ooc for him!!
> 
> also sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes? I knew if i waited and proofread it before posting it id never get around to the ACTUAL POSTING

Pathetically, Kageyama had fallen asleep.

            He hadn’t even realized this fact, however, until he felt the insistent nudge of a cold door against his spine. The setter groaned, rolling over onto his side to allow the door to be pushed open, effectively folding him like a pretzel into the corner. He peeled his tired eyes open though all he could see was a dark and unhabituated bedroom. His gaze drifted upwards to where light was pooling into the room and for a moment he could have sworn that this light was radiating form Jesus himself as his adjusting eyes began to make out a figure in the hall.

            Tsukishima lowered his amber eyes down at him, as cool and collected as always.

            “Oh,” he mumbled, slipping his DS back into the pocket of his dull gray jacket. “I’ll find some other room.” The blonde’s feet spun around in a 180, the door handle in his grip and ready to be tugged towards him. At just the same moment Kageyama’s stomach lurched. He coiled over onto his hands and knees, back arching as he vomited on the floor.

            Usually, Kageyama liked this part. He enjoyed the way it felt, having everything leave his body. That gorgeous emptiness. However, this time it was not welcomed. He gagged on nothing, having already throw up everything but his organs onto the wood paneling beneath him. The acidity of the alcohol set a fire in his throat that he couldn’t put out no matter how hard he gagged and wheezed. He groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of the hand that wasn’t clutching his stomach.

            Tsukishima hovered in the doorway, disgusted expression quick to be replaced with a taunting one. “Did the King have a little too much?” he asked, snidely, craning his chin up at the other as if to prove his superiority. Kageyama didn’t have the energy to fight back. He crawled away from his vomit pile, curling up next to the futon laid out in the middle of the room and shivering. If he hadn’t wanted to die earlier, he really did now. He’d drank until he was numb and stupid and now he was paying for it. He could feel the sweat chilling on his body, almost soaking through his sweatshirt.

            Tsukishima pursed his lips, cocking his head a little as he curiously watched the other boy. He’d never seen Kageyama so… well pathetic. Sure, he’d teased the setter for it numerous times but then it had only been a word. Now it was a reality. The great and powerful king Kageyama Tobio probably couldn’t even stand right now. Right now, he only existed as a heap of living flesh on the floor. The taller boy sighed. He really had no business here. He couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse to leave.

            On one hand, if he left, he probably wouldn’t ever have to talk about this moment again. Here he was witnessing what was no doubt Kageyama’s rock bottom and there was no one else in this god forsaken party that could help. Not even Hinata, who, not moments ago had stormed off somewhere, looking frantic and slightly drunk, scrubbing angry tears off his cheeks. If he left now and shut the door quietly behind him would anyone know? Would anyone think to look for Kageyama? It was already well into the night and most of the guests had either tired themselves out and were snoozing comfortable on the sofas in the living room or gone home. It wasn’t beyond Tsukishima to feel guilty. And he was sure he would end up feeling so if he decided to ditch the setter.

            Yet, if he stayed, he might have to actually _comfort_ Kageyama. The mere idea of that made the teen’s nose scrunch up with disgust. Kageyama might even try _talking_ to him about it. God knows he was annoying enough when normal but now, in his distressed state, he doubted anything decent could come out of that mouth. The last thing he needed to top off a perfectly shitty night was listening to some idiot’s sob story.

            “Leave,” Kageyama rasped from the far corner of the room, face buried beneath his hands. Tsukishima stayed rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable. Kageyama’s shoulders shook as he gagged again, releasing nothing with a muffled sob of pure agony. Tsukishima wondered if being drunk was all that was going on here. Maybe the duo had gotten into another fight. It wasn’t a rare occurrence. In fact, it seemed to be happening more and more as the months grew on and brought them closer to the spring tournament. It probably made the most sense out of all the other possibilities. Kageyama and Hinata had a fight after which Hinata had stormed out and the setter had drank away his worries. Tsukishima’s eyes rolled. How predictable.

            Kageyama’s nails scraped weakly at the hardwood floor, sobbing with his cheek pressed against it. He wondered what was worse. The pain in his gut or in his chest. He wondered which one was making him cry.

            Tsukishima let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Just…stay here,” he breathed out as the setter whined theatrically, still scratching at the floor like some possessed cat. The tall blonde let the door swing shut behind him, dumping the remaining liquor in his solo cup out on the house plant standing between him and the bathroom. He could hear snoring coming from the tub and one peek inside confirmed that it was already home to one of tonight’s many blue-ribbon-drinkers. He paid no mind to the passed out body, sliding his headphones over his ears to drown out the noise. It was times like these that he was glad he brought them everywhere.

            It wasn’t a minute later that the blocker returned to Tobio’s room with a cup of bathroom-sink water in one hand and his Ipod in another. The raven was still practically lying in his own filth though it looked as though he had mostly cried himself out, his knees tucked up to his chest and his hair curling a little from sweat, spit, and tears. Tsukishima closed the door behind them and Kageyama was never more grateful to have privacy.

            “Here.” Tsukishima thrusted the cup at the other, water sloshing out onto the floor. Kageyama simply eyed it, not quite committed enough to actually get up, much less reach out his hand to take it from the other boy. He received a light scoff in return and soon a sturdy body was handling him and he was propped up against a wall or a door or a chest, he wasn’t sure which. His brain was still reading every situation through that same hazy distorted glow.

            “Drink.”

            And he did.

            Water dripped from the corners of his mouth and down his chin but at least it was washing off that acid burn. He coughed a few times as he swallowed too fast, banging his fist against his chest. Tsukishima, that big asshole was probably having the time of his life watching Kageyama choke on his on spit, cheeks red and eyes swollen from crying. There was no doubt in the setter’s mind that by morning everyone in Miyagi would know his pathetic little story. Feeling up his best friend, getting rejected, throwing up and worst of all relying his least favorite person to help. He wanted to be assassinated. Cease existing. Evaporate into thin air. Become smoke. He wished this often.

            “You aren’t going to throw up on me are you?” he heard from behind him. So he _was_ being hoisted up against Tsukishima’s chest. Now that he thought about it he could feel his arms securing him like a seat belt around his middle. And, unlike Hinata’s, they weren’t pushing him away. He clicked his tongue in response, crawling away from the blonde’s loose hold and leaning against the wall instead, adjacent to him. He polished off his water, crushing the cup in his hand and breathing like he’d just ran a marathon.

            “Hinata-”

            “He left.”

            “Hinata thinks I’m… _disgusting_ ” He could feel another round of tears coming on and tried to push them down, pinching the bridge of his nose instead. Tsukki sat awkwardly quiet at his side. It was exactly what he was afraid of. Kageyama wanted to talk.

            “He thinks I’m fat. Stupid. I’m so stupid,” he muttered into his hands, gliding them down his face as if to wipe away all that’d happened today.

            Tsukishima raised an eyebrow at the boy, his glasses sliding down his nose as he craned his head down to face him.

            “Wow, King, you really must be an idiot.”

            Kageyama glared daggers.

            “Are you seriously calling yourself fat when you weigh like three pounds?”

            The black haired teen visibly straightened, back hitting the wall and making a hallow kind of knock. He gritted his teeth, running shaking fingers through his hair. He wanted to laugh. _Finally somebody gets it. Finally somebody sees it._

            “104,” he corrected.

            The blonde’s expression became unreadable, pushing his glasses up against his nose.

            “That’s at least 20 pounds below what you’re supposed to be.”

            He was probably right. He was definitely right.

            “So?”

            “So that’s probably what Hinata thinks is disgusting about you.”

            Kageyama’s heart froze in his chest. No that couldn’t be right. Who could find him disgusting like this? The setter shook his head.

            “No. That doesn’t make any sense.” _Yes it did._

            “I’m not about to argue with you, King. Or tell you what you wanna hear.”

            Kageyama crossed his arms defensively, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing, trying his best to look intimidating while falling apart. “What do you _think_ I want to hear from you?” The black haired teen sniffled.

            Tsukishima’s headphones slipped down loosely around his neck, the back of his head making a hollow sound as it collided with the dry wall behind him. Why was he doing this? Surely there were more qualified people than himself to be talking Kageyama out of a breakdown. So why hadn’t he left yet? Why did he feel so responsible?

            “You want to me tell you that Hinata thinks you’re gross because you’re fat so you can feel like you need to lose more weight right? Because that’s how anorexia works.”

            Anorexic. _And Bulimic_. _Thank you for noticing. Thank you for finally noticing my problems. Thank you for acknowledging them._ Inside, Kageyama was rejoicing. Dispite himself he could feel a sick kind of pride tugging the corners of his lips into a knowing smile. His secret was out.

            “You act like you know everything,” the drunk boy murmured, hiding the unbecoming smirk beneath his hands.

            “I do.”

            “You noticed it. No one else’s noticed it.”

            Tsukishima’s head rolled to the side, his eyebrows lifting as if to challenge that statement. “Anyone within thirty feet of you would notice that you’re skinny, and if they didn’t come up with anorexia as quick as I did, then they would have at least thought you had a serious illness,” the blonde quipped sharply. He let his eyes close for a moment and for the first time that night Kageyama could see the distress written on his face.

            “Oh,” was all he could make out. He thought about Hinata calling him sick _that_ night. He thought about lying to his mom, telling her he didn’t feel well enough for school. He thought about how anorexia, not that he was admitting he had it, was a mental and physical illness. He was weak and tired on both fronts. Worn down on all edges. When he got down to it, he was really just sad. And he didn’t know when this sadness began. And that scared him.

            Kageyama started to cry again, just a little. Baby tears that came without the violent shivers and shakes that his previous sobbing had. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, nodding in agreement. He was sick. That much as certain. Tsukishima wasn’t prompting any more questions, nor did he look much in the mood for socialization anymore. He glanced at his watch with annoyance then back to Kageyama, easing a hand under himself to push his body up from the floor. Without another word he slipped his Ipod into Kageyama’s tear-wet lap. Before the other teen could raise his eyes in a look of confusion he found cold calculated hands sliding headphones over his ears. The fingers left him after lingering down his chin to press the silver, worn _play_ button on the device.

            “Give it back to me at practice,” was the last thing the blocker said, dusting off his pale blue jeans and pushing his glasses back against his nose to obscure his expression.

            Kageyama was left again in the blackened bedroom, the soft hum of music lulling him quickly under the spell of sleep. He needed it after a night like this.


	7. (not a real chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ill delete this later

I'd really just like to thank everyone who has commented telling me to continue writing this story. I guess I dont have a lot of confidence in myself as a story teller but I've been wanting to update this fic for a while now. What was driving me to write this fanfiction to begin with was my own eating disorder, but I found that as I focussed more on myself and he healing process and actually got better, I haven't been as motivated to write about EDs. But still, a part of me wants to give Kageyama a good ending and help him get as better as I have been lately :). So I'm working on a new chapter right now and I'll try to keep updating this fic regularly and let the fans who've been begging me to keep writing have the ending they deserve! 

Again, thank you guys all for your patience and wonderful comments. <3


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